Saturday, November 20, 2010

The common redhead, or flavus humana rubra, has hair natually varying from a deep burgundy to bright copper. Approximately 1% to 2% of the human population is affected by this rare anomoaly, which appears in people with two copies of a recessive gene which causes a mutation in the MC1R protein. Gingerism is associated with fair skin color, lighter eye colors (gray, blue, green, and hazel), freckels, and senstivity to ultraviolet light. Cultural reactions have varied from ridicule to admiration, with many existing stereotypes regarding redheads.

Commonly known as coppertops, fantapants, gingarians, ginga ninjas, ginge-tinges, carrot tops, rust heads, and copper knobs, these fiery fellows have been walking the earth for about 50,000 years. Throughout history, their presence has left a mark upon society that can be found through literature and art. During the midieval ages, red hair was thought to be the mark of beastly sexual desire and moral degeneration. Montague Summers, in his translation of the Malleus Maleficarum, notes that red hair and green eyes were thought to be the sign of a witch, a werewolf or a vampire.

(A fresco of a red-haired THracian nonble woman in the Otrusha Mound in central Bulgaria, 4th century BC.)

There are two kinds of redheads existing in our world today, the first of which being the ginger, or sapien flavus rubra. This creature is typically shy, self-concious, intelligent, and socially awkward. Gingers have a certain inclination to wear shades of purple or pink that clash magnificently with their frizzy mane of fury. They enjoy spending their time meticulously practicing the piano, knitting socks, and singing to themselves. Clingling to familiar habitats, gingers can be found in various dark places such as their mother's basement or a cassette rental store. Once fully grown and matured (a feat requiring at least 30 years), gingers usually end up owning either:

a) A large, successful company,b) A steady supply of prostitutes,c) A creepy shack full of cats.

The common ginger is not to be mistaken wit the Cohors hominis spectantia flavus rouge, or gang-dwelling ginga, which is a whole seperate species of redhead. Gingas have an extreme terperament which matches the flaming color of their foreign hair. They are stubborn, demanding, critical, easy to upset, clever, competitive, violent, loud, sarcastic, and hot-headed. A ginga never forgets, and a ginga never forgives.

Gingas are identified as cap-busting, kitten saving, well rounded people. "Do not mess with gingas; they are thugs who don't show if from their skin or hair, but are likely to carry a Glock without you ever expecting it. They ain't afraid to kick your [booty]." (Anonymous classmate)

Gingas are oft found relaxing at classy piano clubs, arguing with brunettes, or fighting Gingerism hate crimes with piercing intellect and strenght as a minority group in the American community. They enjoy good music and creativity, and are not afraid to get sassy on anyone--white freckly-kid style.

Redheads may be commonly mistaken for hall passes, road construction signs, basketballs, carrots, pumpkins, and road cones. No matter how hard it seems, you must never confuse redheads with these items.

Here in America, film and television programs often portray school bullies as having red hair; for example, Scot Farkus from A Christmas Story, the O'Doyle family in the movie Billy Madison, or the bully character Caruso in Everybody Hates Chris. However, children with red hair are often themselves targeted by bullies; "Somebody wit hginger hair will stand out from the croud," says anti-bullying expert Louise Burfitt-Dons.

Although they may be different from the rest of the world, gingers are people too. They enjoy long walks on the beach and evenings with their ginger-haired sweetheart and a glass of wine, just like any other person. Redheads even feel pain--recent studies have shown that gingers need twenty percent more anesthetics to loose their pain reflexes than the average brunette or blonde. So next time you pass a ginger--or ginga--by on the street, stop for a moment to appreciate the rare genetic mutation. They add a little more diversity to our lives. And they're pretty dang funny to watch.

Thursday, November 11, 2010

After reading my last post, one might be confused as to the state of this blog. Have I completely abandoned it in the past five months? Talk about a complete reversal... The filthy hypocrite!

Maybe it's because school started. Whenever I get into a very... involving... english class, I have to be writing so often that my brain does a complete flop and I can no longer write outside of boring essays arguing controversies that no one has heard of. Gosh, listen to me now. I'm not even coherent, and I've stuttered over five months to be able to build up to this.

Yes. I have written about a dozen or so posts. They are currently residing in the lovely place where saved drafts live on the blogosphere. But everytime I open one of them up to edit/publish it, I feel like a total idiot for writing it in the first place and I feel like it doesn't represent me at all because it's too silly or too depressing. So pretty much, I'm a bipolar freak who has trouble staying in one emotion over time when writing. You know. Ha. I'll probably hate this tomorrow.

That, and I feel completely scrutinized for my work. It's as if there is some hawk-of-an-AP-Lang teacher staring over my shoulder, diving too deep into concepts, being too opinionated, and absolutely shutting my warrants down. Like some mean, destroying machine. Killer of children and small, furry animals.

I can't even THINK for myself anymore! Any deeper, philosophical thought that I might have relates to some discussion that we've had in class, and I suddenly feel self-concious like I have something to say and I want to say it, but I can't unless I am 100% sure it's impressive. I feel like I could argue over anything. I feel like I can't talk about anything. It's like I'm stuck in some monkey-hell limbo. That was a Mighty Boosh reference.

I may have to do a post on that show.

So.... You may or may not be able to imagine how I've forced myself to trudge through the past weeks, ignoring that tantalizing picture of blueberry-cake-whatever-it-was-after-all (which, as a matter of fact, was not too successful at persuading me to post as soon as I should have).

You know what, grammar? You suck. Nobody likes you. You have no friends.

*Smacks forehead*

I don't know how to write _ _ _ _ anymore. I cannot. It's as if somebody threw a rice bag over my head and threw me into a lake.

Haha, that would actually be fun.

No, dangit. It wouldn't!

*Smacks forehead*

It's so strange to think that it was JULY last time I posted on here. Now, it's mid-November, we're preparing for Christmas in dance, and there's snow on the ground. Eff.